


Too Tall To Kiss

by mrgoldsdearie



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8540068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrgoldsdearie/pseuds/mrgoldsdearie
Summary: Oswald tries to kiss Edward in the middle of his never ending food nerd rave.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t stop writing these two, especially in domestic situations. This fandom is so inspiring with all the fluffy headcanons I've seen floating around. Who new two cold-blooded killa’s would just scream sweet, caring, fluff. I just want to write so many ideas. I hope those who read enjoy and please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think. Happy reading!

Oswald sits on the barstool at the center granite cabinet in the middle of the kitchen, watching his husband attempting a new recipe from the cookbook he brought him. He adores the way Edward has all of his ingredients and tools perfectly laid out waiting to be used. Organization isn't Oswald’s strong suit, but it’s a trait he loves about Edward.

Edward reads through the book, double checking to make sure he hasn't left anything out. “Did I get the cream?”, he asks himself, scanning over his ingredients. “Ah, yes, there it is.” Points to the carton and buried his nose back into the book.

“When are you going to start, Ed?”, Oswald asks, growing just a bit anxious. “You know how much I love watching you cook.”

Edward peeks up from behind the book. “Patients is a virtue, husband,” says with a wink.

“A virtue that you know I can lose very quickly.”

Edward treats Oswald to a twisted grin. His inpatients have led them to a few unusual sexual encounters in the past. “Just give me a moment to read through the instructions and then I'll start.”

“I can wait more meekly if you were wearing that apron. The least you could do is to give me something more delightful to admire.”

Edward huffs. He can't deny Oswald anything when he leers back at him so innocently. Though both men have a history of cold-blooded murder on their hands, the child-like expressions they manage to flash each other always melts the others heart. “Fine.” He rests the book down on the counter and wraps himself in the purple penguin pattern apron. “Are you happy now?” Stands with his hands on his hips.

“Yes—” Oswald winks— “now you can take all the time you need.”

Edward chuckles to himself and picks up the book. He doesn't know why he was adamant about the apron. It’s just another article of clothing Oswald must envision taking off of him as he sits there undressing him with his eyes.

However, Oswald doesn't think about undressing his spouse. But instead, he imagines Edward bending him over the counter and taking him from behind fully clothed with the apron on.

As Edward reads through the recipe’s instructions, he discovers a few directions that he knows could be done a better way. “Well, that's illogical,” he mumbles, straightening his glasses. “Maybe it's a misprint.”

The smile from being fully engulfed in his fantasy falls from Oswald's face and he looks up at Edward in confusion. “W-what?”

He reads several more passages in the book. “Nope. It isn't,” he adds.

Oswald squints, tilting his head inquisitively to the left. “Ed?”

“It's a complete no-brainer to freeze everything together,” Edward says, dropping the book on the counter. “Hello!—” he throws both hands dismissively in the air— “it's an ice cream cake! But to take the freshly homemade ice cream and put it in the freezer before pouring it into the mold to freeze makes no sense.” He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes, irritated by the words he's read.” You'll lose the smooth consistency you’ve work so hard to get.” Places the spectacles back on his face. “If I do it the way it's directed in the book and set the ice cream out to thaw after freezing, I could forget that it's out…. You know how you could be very distracting, Oswald,” he says a little softer and smiles for an instant. Who knows what situation they could find themselves while waiting to finish the cake. They often make each other feel like they're the only two people in the world. “Do you even think—” his voice raises a little, going back into his vexed tone— “the idiot who wrote this book knows what happens to ice cream when you re-freeze it if it's over thawed?”

After all of his rambling, Oswald isn't sure if he’s looking for a legitimate answer. “Umm…. What?….” He blinks, jaw dropped to the floor.

“You're absolutely right.” He's so passionately offended by the directions in the book, he thought he heard his husband answer the question correctly. “Refrozen ice cream leaves you with a weird, icy texture. Nobody wants that. The reasoning behind why they would suggest such an unnecessary way of assembling it is beyond me. And this isn't the only discrepancy I've found in these instructions. Look—” turns the cookbook to face Oswald and scoots it across the counter towards him— “right here.” Points at a passage and continues going on about the millions of ways he would have written the book.

Oswald gawks at his love’s flapping lips, zoning out to all the words flying from them. He thought this would be a nice afternoon of cooking with maybe a bit of making out. He would never have given Edward the book had he'd known it was filled with so many things he would have done better. Oswald is starting to think that this getting a little overboard. Edward can just make the cake the way he wants to and not have to worry about the words in the book.

As Edward flips the pages and continues to point out all the instructions the chef wrote that would make the home cook’s life more difficult, Oswald decides that this has to stop somehow. He stands to his feet and hobbles to the other side of the counter, standing next to his overactive husband. He rests his hand on Edward’s shoulder and abruptly turns him to his direction, pressing their bodies against each other, puckering his lips with hope to find himself in a tender kiss. But the situation doesn't go according to plan.

Edward looks down at his love, who's frozen with the sweetest little duck face. “What are you doing, Oswald?” He arches a brow.

He opens his eyes to Edward peering down at him, finding that he was too short to make the romantic connection. “I was trying to kiss you, but it appears that I have miscalculated the distance of my lips to yours. Do us a favor and lean down for a second.”

Edward knows that behind his playful actions, that there's a little more to what Oswald was doing. “So in others words—" he steps back, crosses his arms— "you were trying to shut me up.”

Oswald bites his bottom lip and cuts his eyes away. “Maybe,” he answers softly.  

“But you’ve failed.”

“Yes—” he nods— “yes, I did.” He buttons the middle bottom of his suit jacket and takes a step back as well. It's most likely Edward doesn't want a kiss now since Oswald tried to prevent him from talking.

Edward stands more erect, gazing down at the short dark haired man before him. A fiendish grin stretches upon his face as an idea to turn this situation around comes to mind. “How about we play a little game?”

Oswald’s eyes shimmer with awe. He adores the imaginative games that Edward can invent on a whim. “You know I love your games.”

“Indeed I do.” He closes the gap between them. “The name of this game is ‘Too Tall To Kiss’. You must kiss my lips without me leaning down into you. If you can do that, I'll shut up and start cooking. And if you can't, you have to listen to me going through every recipe in the book, pointing out all the things that could be done better.”

“Well, that's an easy game,” Oswald says with the utmost confidence, cupping the back of Edward's neck with both hands. “I'll just pull you into me.”

Edward wraps his hands around Oswald's wrists and gently pulls him away. “That's against the rules.” He takes a step back.

“Okay….” He limps to the right side of the kitchen and opens the bottom cabinet where all the pots and pans are stored. “I see how this game is played,” he says, peering over his shoulder at Edward, pulling out the deepest stock pot in the mansion. Oswald shuffles back to his true love and lays the pot bottom side up on the floor. He lifts his left leg to stand on the heavy steel, but Edward stops him in his tracks.

“Hold on.” He places his right hand on his shoulder. “That's against the rules as well,” Edward smirks, amused at the way he's fucking with his husband. “You can't stand or sit on anything.”

Oswald right eye twitches as he breathes heavily through his nose and his cheek flush in fury. There's no way he can reach Edward sweet tasting lips without something that would add at least a half a foot to his height. “You like this, don't you?”, he viciously barks, saliva misting from his mouth as he speaks. Oswald clenches his fists and turns away from Edward, gimping out of the kitchen to find another way to be the victor of the game. “You haven't won yet!”, he adds just before his exit.

Edward chortles to himself and turns his attention back to the cookbook.

After nearly five minutes, Oswald returns with a boastful gleam in his eye. “You think you're smart, don't you?” He storms closer to Edward. “You're not the only one that can solve problems, Mr. Nygma.”

“I sure hope not, Mr. Penguin.” He straightens his back, appearing as tall as he physically can. “Ready for attempt number three?” He holds up three fingers on his right hand. “It's your last chance.”

“I'm more than ready.” He stands before the tall man, with a smug crooked grin on his face. “Gabe!”, he orders the name of his bodyguard.

Gabriel promptly enters the kitchen and stands behind his boss.  

“You know what to do,” he says nonchalant, gleaming directly into Edward's deep wood colored eyes.

All confidence falls from Edward's face as he witnesses Gabriel wrap his large arms around his husband's small waist and lifts him up from the floor. He now finds himself face to face with his love.

“This isn't against your stupid rules,” Oswald says, grabbing his beloved’s cheeks before finally pressing his smooth moist lips against Edward’s.  

Edward closes his eyes, melding into his touch. God only know how desperately he waited for a taste of him, relieved to finally be in this moment. He had his doubts that Oswald could pull it off, but he's ecstatic that he did. “Mmm….” Edward hums on his lips, pulling Oswald out of Gabriel's grip. He holds him firmly against his body and lifts his husband’s broken leg around his waist, gripping tightly to his thigh.

“Oh, Ed…. I win,” the shorter man groans and slips his talented tongue inside his warm welcoming mouth.

Gabriel has done his job and now feels like the third wheel. He slips out of the kitchen unnoticed.

Oswald gently breaks off their impassioned embrace, nibbling at Edward’s bottom lip before completely pulling away. “All of this…. Turned you on…. Didn't it?” He breaths between words, skating his lift hand down the front of Edward's purple penguin-clad chest, making his way to the bulge in his pants.

“You know how your fiery rage makes me feel,” he says harshly through his teeth.

“I want something else to be my prize for winning.”

Edward nips at his husband's lips before asking, “What's that?”, he breathes.

Oswald leers at him with lust burning deep within his core, ready to be uncoiled. “It still involves the apron,” he whispers.


End file.
